


Of Braids and Beards

by thevaliantdust



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Tumblr Prompt, because heaven forbid i write anything totally fluffy, the angst always creeps in, with a dash of surprise angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevaliantdust/pseuds/thevaliantdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>missarrowrunner requested: Non-shippy Grog and Pike fluff? Him trying to braid her hair or maybe her putting flowers in his beard? Anything with those two being cute together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Braids and Beards

His thick fingers struggle with her fine golden hair, but she’s patient, even when he tugs a bit too hard. 

“Then you put that piece over the middle bit- yeah, like that, you’re getting it,” she coaches him. Her voice is like the sun, warm on his back. He can’t see her face, but he knows she’s smiling.

She always believes in him. Not that the others don’t believe in him exactly, but they mostly value his strength, his rage. She’s the only one that sees his ability to create as much as destroy.

They are the only people in this field, this field that is so big he can’t see where it ends. She sits in front of him, her tiny gnome legs pulled up under her, picking flowers from a patch almost as golden as her hair.

It had gotten so long since he’d seen her last, when they’d parted in Whitestone. She wears it in a braid now, sort of like Vex’s, but neater. Well, neater until they get into battle at least.

That is something else he likes about her. She likes to fight, even though she’s tiny, and good, so good. Fighting can’t be a bad thing if she likes to do it. And if her hands, her fighting hands, can help people, well then his hands can help too.

So he learns to braid her hair, and there is an odd sort of rhythm to it that he finds he rather likes. And the braid is messy, it’s falling apart, but when he ties it off crudely with a light blue ribbon, she turns and beams at him. He feels like he’s done something very clever.

She clambers up into his lap, grasping a bunch of white flowers. She stands on just one of his massive thighs, still rising onto her toes to reach his beard. He laughs as she tucks a flower into his beard, and another, and another. He doesn’t let her see his hand behind her, ready to catch her if she falls.

One of the flower stems tickle his chin. He laughs. His whole body shakes. 

“Grog!” she calls out, laughing as well, trying to keep her balance. He reaches for her, steadying her.

“Grog!” she calls again. She is closer, but her voice is further away.

“Grog!” 

Her hand is on his shoulder and there is pain, searing pain.

“Grog!”

White, holy light. Cold cobblestones. Sticky blood. His blood.

“Grog!”

He opens his eyes. Her tearstreaked face, her messy braid.

“Pike?” he says. Why is she crying? Doesn’t she like the field with the flowers? Why is it so cold?

“Grog! Please, don’t go, I can’t lose you again!”

More white light, holy light. Tiny gnome with white hair, lying across his chest. Her tears are the only warm thing he can feel.

He wants to close his eyes, give up, let the blackness in the back of his mind take over. Black is better than cold, better than pain. 

Slowly, because it hurts, it fucking hurts, he lifts an arm and wraps it around her. Holds her steady. Runs a soft finger across her braid.

“I’m okay, Pike,” he says, it’s all he can say.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. I am the worst. This is why we can't have nice things.


End file.
